


The best cure is soup and bad TV with a loved one

by AxlotlAtHeart



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, POV Sansa Stark, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxlotlAtHeart/pseuds/AxlotlAtHeart
Summary: Theon hasn't been feeling well, which only makes him more cllingy. Sansa is patient. Written for the "soup" prompt for Theonsa challenge 2020. PLEASE READ NOTES.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: Theonsa Challenge 2020





	The best cure is soup and bad TV with a loved one

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm gonna be honest with you, I had this idea pretty much as I saw the "soup" prompt, but I've been really hesitant to post it because I worried it might be a little insensitive to post a sickfic when there's a literal pandemic going on. That being said, this is just pure fluff from my imagination and has nothing to do with the current situation, it's just not the best timing but I'm posting anyway because I'm a goblin. Not to mention I've seen people writing (or saying they're going to write) literal quarantine fics so if they're not getting yelled at maybe I won't either? However, if I'm right and this offends you in some way you could either you know, not read it, or just politely tell me to take it down if it turns into a thing and I will. Thanks. I'm absolutely terrified. I swear I'm not a bad person.  
> (Also sorry about the absolutely shit title, I was at a loss.)

When Sansa finally arrived home, kicking snow off her boots, she had not one, but four new texts from her boyfriend.

_Are you coming home yet?_

_Where are you_

_Sansa_

_Sansa please text bacj i’m afraid you got hit by a bus_

It shouldn’t be funny. He was sick and anxious, and she should definitely be sympathetic – but sometimes he really did worry too much.

Sansa unlocked the door and stepped inside, scrubbing the last bits of snow from her boots on the doormat.

“I’m back,” she called out. “Definitely not squished by a bus.”

Arms laden with groceries, she went back to the kitchen. It was blissfully warm in here, not below freezing like outside. She rubbed her hands together gratefully.

And there was Theon in a hoodie and pajama pants, holding a mug and looking bewildered and frustrated all at once. His pale face sagged in relief when he saw her.

“Oh, God, you’re not dead.”

Her mild annoyance turned to pity; he still sounded terrible. “Not yet. But by the looks of it you will be if you stay on your feet any longer. You look like a zombie.” She put the grocery bags on the counter and went to peer at him. Still glassy-eyed and exhausted looking, but when she pressed a palm to his cheek he didn’t feel too warm.

“Go back to bed, will you? What are you doing out here, anyway?”

He let out a huff of frustration and started talking very fast. “I _was_ in bed, I was asleep, and then – then I had a dream about you getting hit by a bus and it seemed really real so it freaked me out, and I couldn’t get back to sleep so I – I thought I’d make a cup of tea and wait for you, but I – “ he gestured helplessly, looking back up at her with sad eyes. “I don’t know where the kettle went.”

Sansa sighed and reached for the stove behind him. “Right here, love.”

He looked from the kettle to her and back again, and his shoulders slumped. “I’m struggling.” He said in a small voice.

“I can tell. Here, give me that,” she took the mug from his hands, “I’ll make you some tea in a minute, you go sit down.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that…you just came in…”

“And you’re sick. Go on, sit. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He shuffled away in his socked feet. Sansa would have found him adorable if he hadn’t also been so pathetic. It was his third day of an incredibly miserable cold, which she insisted was actually the flu, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. So far he’d spent most of it holed up on his side of their bed, hogging all the blankets, but he’d emerged, mole-like, once or twice. Mostly to try and do things he definitely wasn’t up to doing.

Sansa put the remaining groceries away and started the fixings for tea. She’d make herself a cup too, why not.

When it was ready, she carried their mugs over to the living room where Theon was huddled up on one end of the sofa. He’d insisted he was feeling better than he had been a few days ago, but he still looked rather wilted; like a very sad houseplant that didn’t get enough sunlight.

“Thank you,” he muttered croakily as she handed him his tea. He took a sip and leaned against the back of the couch, cradling the mug in his hands. Sansa pulled down one of the big wooly blankets she kept hanging over the back of the couch and draped it over him. He didn’t even struggle, just slunk as deep down into the folds as he could without his tea spilling.

“So,” she said. “Are you going to tell me what all that ‘getting run over by a bus’ business was about?”

He looked distressed. “It was just a stupid dream. We were walking and this bus just – just went off the road and slammed right into us and I looked over and couldn’t see you anymore… I know it was stupid, but…it felt real, all right? When it first happened. For a minute I really thought…” He looked back to her, eyes getting all sad again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’m right here, love. You’re right, it was just a stupid dream. You don’t need to get all worked up about it.”

“I know,” he said miserably. “I’ve been worrying all day. About stupid stuff like that. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

“You get like that when you don’t feel well. It’s a trend, I’ve noticed.”

“Oh.” Theon shivered, burrowing down even further into the blanket. He coughed into his elbow. “I…I really do feel bad. I’m sorry.”

Poor thing. “Don’t you be sorry. It’ll pass. Hey – we could watch some stupid TV to pass the time, I’m sure there’s something on we can laugh at.”

“I might fall asleep.”

“That’s why we find something we don’t have to pay attention to.” She flipped on the TV and started flicking through channels. Beside her, Theon shuffled closer and burrowed into her shoulder. 

She pried him off, laughing. “Get away, you giant germ.”

“No.”

“Fine, stay there. But when I’m sick a week later I expect you to take good care of me.”

“Deal.”

An hour later they were on their second episode of _Long Island Medium_ when she tuned back in to the pressure against her shoulder. Theon had slumped further down in his blanket nest, empty mug resting precariously in his hands. Sansa poked him. “You still awake?”

A muffled grumble came from the depths of the human-sized burrito.

“If you want to go to bed you can, I’m sure you’d be more comfortable there than here.”

Slowly, he sat up, eyes bleary. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just tired.”

“It’s getting a bit late, I was going to have some dinner. Do you want anything? I can make you some soup if you’d like – or was the tea enough?”

Theon looked sheepishly at her. “I mean…would you want to make soup?”

She hid a smile. “Depends on how badly you want it.”

“Okay. Fine. If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

She gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. “I don’t mind. Soup it is.”

Fifteen minutes later she’d made what she thought was a pretty fantastic pot of chicken soup, and was in the process of fixing her own dinner. On second thought, maybe it would be easier to just share the soup. There was definitely enough for both of them.

She heard shuffling footsteps as she bent over the pot. “Go back to the couch,” she said without looking up. “I swear, Theon, if you make yourself worse by wandering around all over the place when you’re supposed to be resting…”

Now she looked up to see him wrapped in his blanket and looking at her forlornly. “I got lonely.”

“You are such a baby. Here, come get a bowl and I’ll give you some soup, all right?”

She poured him what she hoped was enough and sent him back to the living room. After a moment’s hesitation she realized she really didn’t want to make herself a whole new meal, so she spooned out a bowl for herself as well. If he could survive on chicken soup alone, she could too.

She found Theon eating contentedly. He looked up when she came in.

“It’s good,” he said, a bit croakily. “Nice and warm. You’re honestly the best person in the world, Sansa…”

She snorted. “Far from it. It’s not too hot, is it? I don’t want to mess up your throat.”

“No, it’s perfect. And I mean it. I really, really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His earnestness almost made her blush. She tried to hide the smile creeping onto her lips as she plopped down next to him. “You’re so sentimental. Does having a cold bring out your mushy side or are you just like that today?”

“I know I don’t say it enough. How much you really mean to me. Maybe…after having those dreams…I don’t know…” He sniffed. “I don’t want to be without you, Sansa.”

That was it; he was definitely mushier than usual. Any other day Sansa might have rolled her eyes, but she just couldn’t ignore his sad little face.

She pulled him in close, blankets and all, hugging tightly. “I don’t want to be without you either, don’t you worry about that. And you say it just as much as you need to. “

Sansa could feel him _melt_ in her arms. She gently patted his back and felt him rest his chin on her shoulder.

After a few moments of this she gently pried him off. “All right now, finish you soup. And don’t worry about me, okay? Don’t worry about us.”

Theon sniffed again. “I won’t.”

“Good.” As he picked up the bowl again she adjusted his blanket, and put one arm around his shoulders.

He hesitated to lean in. “I don’t want to make you sick…”

“Look, if you were going to get me sick it’s already happened. I give up. But your soup skills had better be just as good as mine.”

He gave a weak smile and leaned into her arm. Sansa tugged another blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over the both of them, feeling him snuggle closer as she did so. A smile twitched the corners of her mouth; sick and clingy or not, it was nice to have him here, right close to her.

After half an hour more of watching mindless television, Sansa was starting to lose feeling in her arm. She didn’t dare move though; Theon was still curled up tightly next to her, and by the looks of it he had fallen asleep. Instead she adjusted their blankets with as minimal movement as was possible, and draped her other arm over his shoulder. She had a feeling she would be there for a while.


End file.
